Baggage
by Meikela
Summary: Random one shot.


**A/N: Just something that popped into my head and wouldn't leave until I wrote it down...**

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Baggage

I stand in a sea of people, anonymous, watching as life goes on around me. My brown hair, brown eyes, brown business suit, and brown high heels serving as modern woman's camouflage – allowing me to blend into my surroundings and people watch. I look on as a pair of lovers reunite, a father says goodbye to his son, a basketball team heads out to win a championship game. Each vignette stabs at my heart. These people are living while I remain on the sidelines, watching.

I turn away from the crowd and direct my attention to the baggage carousel. Many years of business trips have taught me to use a brightly colored suitcase. I pray that my neon orange bag is one of the first off of the plane. I want nothing more than to grab my belongings and beat a hasty retreat to my apartment, away from the noisy crush of life that threatens to overwhelm me.

As the conveyor belt starts up with a roar, I scrutinize the stream of black suitcases that begins to pour from the chute. Some of my fellow travelers have opted to identify their luggage with brightly colored ribbons. I find it ironic that this piece of advice, handed down from mother to daughter, wife to husband, has led to a plethora of red ribbons on black suitcases. I want to ask the folks around me _"Now what?"_ but just smirk instead. I feel smug in the knowledge that I will not be taking someone else's baggage home with me tonight.

The conveyor makes a grinding sound and comes to a halt. The crowd gathered around the edge of the carousel assigned to our flight lets out a collective groan. An airport employee arrives within moments to announce that we will have to wait as they move our luggage to another carousel. A large man begins to angrily discuss the situation with the airline representative and I walk away, unwilling to waste my energy on such a trivial concern.

I find a seat close to the customer service desk and hear the faint sounds of a woman yelling at someone about the loss of her bag. I twist in my chair to observe, marveling as the woman's hand gestures increase in response to something the clerk is saying. Jealousy sets in – I'd give anything to lose my baggage. In my 30 years on the planet, I've already accumulated enough baggage to fill the entire carousel; it's just the kind that doesn't fit in regular suitcase.

I contemplate the components of my metaphorical baggage, imagining each item as a t-shirt that's been packed inside my orange suitcase. There's the fear/insecurity t-shirt – a souvenir from a father who gambled his paychecks away, insuring that his child and single parent ex-wife remained trapped in a rough and tumble trailer park somewhere in Indiana. Tucked firmly into the corner of the suitcase is the abandonment t-shirt, for those times when my parents forgot that they were responsible for someone other than themselves. I can laugh now at the fact that my mother left me at K-mart for five hours before she remembered that she'd brought me with her, but it wasn't particularly funny at the time.

Wrinkled at the bottom is the extra-large bitterness/envy t-shirt. This one is worn a lot - especially around here where the sight of a 16 year old driving a $150,000 automobile is common. Everything I own I've had to scrimp and save for – it must be nice to rely on mommy or daddy to cater to your every need. In the darkest corner of the suitcase is an ugly and torn low self-esteem tee. I push this one into the corner every chance I get, yet it still keeps popping up to haunt me.

A young priest sits down next to me and sighs in relief, disturbing my introspection. I glance over and make eye contact, even though I usually avoid it. He has blond wavy hair, blue eyes, and dimples that seem incongruent with my image of the clergy. He gives me a kind smile and offers an observation of his own, "You look a little lost. Anything I can help you with?"

I shake my head but answer anyway – "Just contemplating how to lose my baggage."

"You want to lose your baggage? Seems an odd place to do that, don't you think?" he replies in a southern drawl, gesturing towards the silent carousels.

"Not that type of baggage," I murmur back and look away, hoping he'll leave me to my depressed musings.

"Ahhh," he sighs out, recapturing my attention. That one long drawn out syllable tells me he understands exactly the type of baggage I want to lose. "That's easily done," he notes, flashing those dimples at me.

I look at him disbelievingly. Yeah, right. If it was so easy, I'd have done it years ago. I scoff and then reply, "Really? And how's that?"

"Simple, you just empty the contents of your bag and replace it with items of a more positive nature," he advises, spreading his hands out in front of him.

"It's not that easy," I protested. I'd been carrying this baggage around for years. In a way I kinda liked it – it was comfortable. I knew exactly what was in it and why.

"But it is," he promised. "You just have to make the choice to leave the contents of your old suitcase behind."

"So, just walk away and leave the old stuff behind? " I repeat, hoping that he didn't oversimplify like this during confessional.

"It's your choice. Aren't you tired of lugging it everywhere? Think of how much lighter your load would be if you left it behind," the priest said sagely.

I didn't respond, contemplating his words. After a few moments, I decided he was right – I _**was **_tired of dragging it everywhere I went. Without it I would be free to do whatever I wanted or go wherever I chose. I wouldn't have to wonder if it was going to get in the way or if I had it with me. I could just be me, without baggage.

I looked over to find him watching me eagerly, awaiting my response. I took a deep breath and let it out, and then said, "I believe you could be right. I think I'm going to give it a try."

He reached over and patted my hand and drawled, "I guarantee you'll be better off. Now go enjoy your day. You'll be surprised at what you'll find out there when you look forward instead of looking back."

I rose from my seat, sent the priest a thankful smile, and set off across the baggage claim area. Bypassing the carousel where my orange bag was circling endlessly, I exited the airport and hailed a taxi. It felt as if I'd lost fifty pounds and a smile broke across my face as I tilted my head back to enjoy the sun. A yellow cab swung to the curb and as I entered the backseat, I heard, "Where to?"

I glanced up at the rearview mirror and found myself entranced by a pair of emerald green eyes that twinkled with humor and kindness. Our gazes locked and in that instant a new, lighter emotion spread through me - hope.


End file.
